


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

by oper_1895



Series: Sex is just a word (Asexual!Neal) [4]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Asexual Character, Community: kink_bingo, D/s, Gunplay, M/M, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, kinky not-porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-15
Updated: 2010-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oper_1895/pseuds/oper_1895
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't that Neal was scared of guns, exactly, it was just that given the choice, he preferred to not deal with them. Peter doesn't give him that choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Neal slowed when he saw the gun laid out on the table, then froze completely when he felt the hard metal of a gun press into his spine. His heart started beating hard against his ribs, and he felt his face flush as Peter pressed up close behind him.

"Peter?" Neal's hands lifted away from his sides, he held himself carefully open and unthreatening.

"Neal." Peter's voice was soft.

"What's up?" Neal almost managed to sound casual.

"You're going to clean that gun for me."

_Oh._ Neal shivered. They had talked about something long these lines but Peter had been cautious and Neal hadn't actually expected it to happen. Peter had apparently worked out his reservations. This could go two ways, Neal knew: he could obey and work with the gun on the table, or resist and deal with the gun in Peter's hand. It wasn't that Neal was scared of guns, exactly, it was just that given the choice, he preferred to not deal with them.

"Neal?" Peter asked, concerned, and Neal realized he had hesitated for too long. The hand not holding the gun came up to rest comfortingly on Neal's shoulder.

"Green" Neal whispered.

"Good" Neal tried to look at Peter, but the hand on Neal's shoulder came up to grab a handful of hair and Peter forced his head front. Following the pressure of the gun, and the pain in his scalp, Neal staggered forward to the edge of the table. He balked for a moment until Peter slid the gun up his spine, then dug the tip into the trapezius, pushing the hard metal into the pressure point until Neal dropped into the stool with a huff of pain.

Neal sat there with Peter looming at his back, staring blindly at the guns, hyper-aware of the gun resting against the back of his head. He knew it was Peter, he knew that Peter would never put him in a situation that would hurt him, but it was hard to think past the gun, especially with his body pumping adrenaline through his system and the back of his brain screaming _threat!_.

"Get to work"

Neal took a deep breath, reached for all the techniques he had to calm the trembling in his hands, and reached for the empty gun on the table.

\--

It took Neal longer than Peter would have expected to get the gun cleaned. Not that he was helping the process. While Neal was working, Peter was testing every single reaction he could wrest from the man. He caressed Neal's cheek with his fake gun, and watched Neal's breath go shallow and his eyes widen. When Neal tried to turn away from his task, Peter put the gun up against the back of his skull and shoved his head back down; Neal spread his hands wide against the table and his breath caught in his throat. Peter dragged the gun down Neal's back and found the spot under his ribs that made him squeak and flinch and then freeze in something akin to panic. He pressed the gun against Neal's throat and could feel Neal's pulse pounding, hot against the metal.

Neal finished, and immediately folded his hands back into his lap, as far away from the gun on the table as he could get without moving too close to the gun against his body. But that had been too easy.

"Again." Peter nudged him forward slightly.

"Why?"

Peter leaned heavily against Neal's back, wrapped his arm around Neal's chest to push the gun up into the soft underside of Neal's jaw, to force his head back to where Peter could see his face. "Because I said so," Peter enunciated carefully.

And there it was, this was the moment Peter had been looking for. Neal shuddered, and behind the movement all the tension drained out of his body. Neal nodded carefully against the muzzle and went back to work.

The second time went faster. Neal's submission meant he wasn't as hyper-focused on the position of the gun Peter held, but Peter still had something up his sleeve. He waited until Neal had almost finished, until just a few pieces remained to reassemble, then he cocked the gun and pressed it to the back of Neal's head. Neal's reaction to the sound made the time it took to find a fake gun with a realistic cocking sound completely worthwhile; he whimpered and froze completely, not even breathing. Peter could _see_ Neal attention shift to focus entirely on the gun.

Peter touched him gently, "You're almost done." Neal let out his breath all at once. His body was rock steady with tension as he reached for the final pieces.

When the last piece was in place, Neal carefully placed the gun on the cloth with a shuddering gasp, and Peter immediately placed his gun beside it to pull Neal up into his arms. "You did so well, Neal. Good job."

Neal tucked his head into Peter's neck and clutched at him while he worked his way though the adrenaline. Peter pressed a kiss to the side of Neal's head and just held him until Neal caught up with himself.

"How was it? Was that what you wanted?" Peter asked once Neal had started to relax against him.

"Perfect." Peter could feel Neal's smile against his neck. "It was exactly perfect."


End file.
